


Where The Wild Roses Grow

by sweetcarolanne



Category: Goblin Market - Christina Rossetti
Genre: F/F, Goblins, Horror, Love, Misses Clause Challenge, Plants, Revenge, Undead, Vampires, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-23 23:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17090180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/pseuds/sweetcarolanne
Summary: The flowers on Jeanie's grave did not die - they lived, and grew ravenous. They will bring Jeanie the vengeance that she seeks, and lead her back to hope and love...





	Where The Wild Roses Grow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimaracretak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/gifts).



> Dear Kimaracretak, your prompts intrigued me so I was inspired to write this treat. I hope you like it - happy Yuletide!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters and am making no money from this.
> 
> Many thanks to my anonymous beta.

As time passed, many a sweet-scented bloom was planted on young Jeanie’s grave; masses of bright yellow daffodils and pure white snowdrops from her parents and her sister, and delicate daisies, a last gift from her best beloved girlhood companion, Lizzie. Fragrant jasmine and other such exquisite climbing flowers from the many young men who had been her suitors in life, and the heavenly wild roses which grew unbidden everywhere, also found their way to the last resting place of the girl who had perished long before her time.

All seemed to wither and vanish, however, leaving the grave-site stark and bare. Not even a blade of grass peeped above the hard, cold ground, leaving only the bleakness of the grey headstone to mark where Jeanie lay.

Secret whispers and shielded glances of fear passed swiftly between the good people of the town, speculating as to why the grave of such a kind and gentle young woman remained so barren. She had been, after all, a pious and unselfish maid of just seventeen, who never in her life had done bad deeds or even spoken wicked words or let her mind gravitate to evil thoughts. 

“It’s the forbidden fruits she tasted – the goblins’ curse,” the old folks said under their breath. “She had the ill luck to meet the goblin men. We must pray, all of us, for the poor child’s soul to go to Heaven.”

Despite all prayers and past earthly temptations, neither Heaven nor Purgatory held the spirit of unfortunate Jeanie. Nor was she quite dead beneath the ground where her earthly remains were supposed to rest for all eternity. 

The flowers everyone had presumed to be dead and gone had been drawn below the surface of the earth; their nourishing sap and nectar, soft petals and sturdy roots helped to satiate, at least for a short time, the ravenous hunger in her cold body and gave her something close to life.

As the first full moon of summer rose high in the sky, its silvery sheen more brilliant than any newly minted coin, Jeanie clawed her way out from her imprisoning coffin and stood beneath the stars, her flesh once more smooth and marble-white and her long black hair, no longer with a single thread of grey, flowing and fluttering like a silken curtain in the midnight air.

She was wide awake, and she craved to feed on more than bulbs and blossoms.

Dried leaves fell, crisp and crumpled, from Jeanie’s trailing shroud as she glided through the darkness, allowing her desires and sharpened senses to guide her to what she needed. Wild roses and honeysuckle wound themselves through her hair and pushed their greenery and slowly opening buds up through her skin. When she came to an orchard protected by towering walls of stone and gates of iron, her slim hands, so deceptively frail in appearance to the naked eye, snapped the lock and chain on the gateway before her. Unhindered, she made her way along the narrow path towards where trees laden with delicious fruits, bushes bright with plump, juicy berries and vines hanging low with the most luscious-looking grapes in the world were being guarded by a troop of fierce-eyed goblin men.

Animal faces twisted in rage and mockery as the goblins saw the slender figure of what they thought to be a human girl approaching. Red eyes glowed with evil intent beneath the luminous moon, and then widened with fear when they saw what she truly was.

They knew instantly that Jeanie was not coming for the glorious fruit, but for their lives.

All around her, goblins hissed and screamed, scattering and running, but to no avail; climbing plants unfurled from the open veins of her wrists and coiled around their struggling bodies. One by one, she pulled them from the places they sought to flee to and hide within, and vivid scarlet rosebuds, widening to reveal the thorny teeth inside the aromatic petals, drained their vital fluids until they lay as lifeless husks, discarded like so much refuse upon the ground.

Their blood both smelled and tasted vile, but it invigorated Jeanie and made her strong. She would never prey upon the innocent, even though the blood of human men and women would be sweeter to consume. Humanity was safe from her predations; although her body and soul were caught up in life-in-death, her heart was still filled with love and compassion for the helpless and the pure.

She would find every single goblin in existence eventually, but these few would suffice to slake her appetite for one night.

Sated for the time being, Jeanie made her slow, graceful way towards the dwellings of her loved ones.

Her grey-haired parents slept soundly in their marital bed as she gazed down upon their careworn faces, aching with loss and love. She kissed their foreheads with the lightest touches of her lips, and then slipped like a shadow into the maiden bedroom of her sister.

Maggie had been a mere child still when Jeanie died, but now she was a promising young woman whose beauty seemed like it would surpass that of Jeanie. She too was fast asleep, and Jeanie smiled a tender blessing on her, appearing in Maggie’s dreams as an angel, whose wings were made of exquisitely perfumed jasmine petals instead of feathers, stroking her soft hair and warning her about the seductive words of goblin men.

Eyes filled with sorrow, but with a spark of hope within her, Jeanie left her family and walked to the house of her dearest childhood friend.

Lizzie too lay in a deep slumber, her golden curls spilled over the pillow and her face was serene as if she dreamed of a happy life to come. Jeanie hardly dared to move or breathe, or even place a kiss on the full and sensual lips she so adored, afraid to wake her beloved before it was time. Lizzie’s sister Laura still needed the guidance and protection of her sibling, after all.

Jeanie stood and gazed in rapture at her sleeping darling, remembering the kisses they had shared and the vow they had once made as they sat and braided each other's hair, to buy a little cottage of their own and be old maid companions together if neither of them found a man they wished to marry. She smiled as Lizzie stirred and muttered in her sleep, and then was gone as suddenly and swiftly as if she were a ghost.

Someday all the goblins would be gone, and then Jeanie would return to claim sweet Lizzie as her own.


End file.
